Starry Night
by wrestlefan4
Summary: OST with Matt Hardy/Chris Jericho. Matt and Chris never knew a romantic camping trip could go so, so wrong. Is there any way out, or will the night end for both of them without sight of another morning?


Starry Night

Chris looked skeptically at the tall pines as they walked, weaving through the soldier-like trees. Their feet crunched in a mismatched rhythm against the litter of dead pine needles, and brittle cones. He shifted the pack that was aching his back, and sniffled his nose—these damn trees were bothering his allergies. His eyes were probably all red as if he'd been on a bender, and in fact they burned like hell when he rubbed them, which he realized he was doing again.

"You okay back there babe?" Matt asked.

Matt glanced over his shoulder, and gave a small smirk. He was a few feet ahead of Chris, and he was enjoying the call of the wild more than his blond partner. Chris would have most likely been more at home hiking through the icy tundra of the Great White North or riding off into the sunset on a moose while singing a rousing round of "O Canada", rather than hiking through the woods of southern North Carolina. All of this had been Matt's idea, and Chris was just going along with it to make him happy.

"Sure, just fine Mattski." Chris replied, trying to muster a little cheer to go along with it.

Matt stopped in a small clearing, and looked around. He moved around the small patch, plucked up a few empty, crushed beer cans, and tossed them.

"How about we pitch the tent here?" He tilted his head upwards, and looked at the hole of sky. "We can watch the stars when they come out." He turned back to Chris, a small smile on his lips.

"Stars?" Chris sniffed, rubbing at his nose.

"Yeah baby." Matt sauntered over, and wrapped his arms around Chris's waist. "It'll be romantic." He added, planting a kiss to Chris's lips. The blond melted into him for a moment, and nuzzled against his shoulder.

"Romantic…does that mean I can get in your pants after the star thing?"

Matt laughed, and hugged Chris tight.

"We'll see."

The dark haired one gave a mischievous wink, and went to the center of the clearing, and dropped his pack. He smiled to himself with his back still turned to Chris. The poor guy was obviously not enjoying himself so far. He knew Chris wasn't really the outdoorsy type—even though Matt had put his favorite cap atop Chris's head just to get him into the spirit—it was a ratty camouflage thing. As to be expected, Chris was worried about it messing his hair up. Matt reminded him that there weren't any mirrors hanging from the trees out there, and that Chris looked sexy one-hundred percent of the time, hair-gel or no. That had brought one of those cocky smirks to the blond mans lips, and Matt had kissed them.

Matt laughed, remembering that scene only before they'd left the house. He turned around to say something to Chris, and laughed again. He was holding the hat in one hand, and messing with his hair with the other. He'd managed to make it look sex-mussed, rather than anything else, which Matt was defiantly not going to complain about.

"Get your gorgeous ass over here and help me with the tent." Matt waved Chris over, who put the hat back on and cocked it ridiculously sideways.

"Shore thang Matty jus' lemme scratch mah ass an' put a wad a chew in buh'fer we get this here shindig under way over yonder, yeah!"

"Shut up Chris!" Matt coughed laughter. "I don't talk like that."

The two started on the tent, many times cursing it, and often wrestling with it, before finally getting it put up. Matt crawled inside and fixed their sleeping bags, as Chris mumbled something about 'why couldn't they bring an air mattress'. Matt's head poked out of the zip-door of the tent. The bandana he had tied around his forehead had slipped down a little, and his curls were tumbling out of the tie he'd put them back with. His face glowed with a light sheen of sweat from their fight with the tent.

"Because Chris, that's not real camping. That's camping for pussies." He crawled out of the tent and got to his feet, brushing at the dirty spots on his pants.

"Are you saying I'm a pussy?" Chris put on his best offended pout.

"Hey, I didn't say it, you did!" Matt giggled, and Chris landed a hard swat to his ass.

"I'll show you who's a pussy…"

Chris narrowed his eyes at Matt, and lunged for him. Matt took off running. Chris chased him around in circles at the edge of the clearing that had become their camp, as they both laughed and shot each other faux threats. Finally, Chris grabbed Matt's waist and took them both down. They rolled around on the bed of pine needles, one topping the other, before the positions were quickly switched. Chris finally stopped fighting to pin Matt's shoulders, and just lay beneath him panting. Matt's hands moved up and down the twitching muscles of his arms, caressing.

"I love you Chris." Matt cooed.

He was straddling Chris's waist, and one of the hands that was gliding over Chris's bicep moved to the collar of his button down shirt (leave it to Chris to wear that on a camping trip). Matt pressed his palm to the tanned skin that revealed itself from the wide V made by the undone top buttons. He could feel Chris's heart thunder beneath the warm flesh, that steadily rose and fell with his breathing. He bent his head and placed a kiss there. He could feel Chris's fingers snake through his hair.

"I love you too Matty, always."

*******

The two men lay on a blanket spread over the pine needles. Nearby, the embers of the fire flickered lazily. Darkness had crowded in around them, and in the sky above the stars had popped out like millions of tiny, winking eyes. The moon hung behind a thin shroud of cloud, and it was just a sliver short of being full. It was really beautiful, more so than Chris had imagined. Out here in the nowhere land, the sky just seemed bigger, and the stars dappling it seemed brighter.

Chris and Matt entwined themselves together as they gazed upwards. Their bodies were bare and still damp with sweet sweat from their passionate activities. Lips were pleasantly kiss-swollen, and curved with twin smiles. Chris's arm curled around Matt's torso, his head rested upon the strong chest, as his ear pressed the warm skin beneath and took in the steady thumps of his heartbeat. Matt's hand threaded lazily in Chris's hair, massaging and letting the soft blond wisps slip through his fingers.

He couldn't believe how truly in love he was with the man curled around him. In the beginning, so many people told him it would never work, given Chris's personality. Matt had discovered something a lot of his co-workers had not taken time to notice, and that was that there was a lot more to Chris than his tendency to whine, or his habit of fussing over his hair too much, or his love of throwing big words around that no one (probably himself included) really knew what they meant. Chris was an amazing person, the exact kind of person Matt hoped to spend his life with.

"I could stay here forever." Matt sighed, moving his fingers down a little to rub the back of Chris's neck. Chris was practically purring his contentment.

"Mmm…me too, forever…just me and my angel."

"Ah hell, I'm no angel." Matt laughed a little, which made Chris smile more.

It was a pretty perfect end to the evening, and neither of them really felt much like moving. After a while, heavy lids began to fall over glazed eyes, and soon the two were asleep under the moon. At some point, the peaceful sleep was fractured by the splitting crack of lightening. Both sat bolt-upright, faces tilted towards the sky. The beautiful night that had lulled them to sleep was replaced with heavy clouds that looked like gigantic versions of the marshmallows they'd burned earlier—blackened and charred looking as they roiled. Rain began to fall, quickly and in heavy, cold drops.

"Come on Chrissy, let's get into the tent." Matt yawned, standing up and heading towards it. He stopped on the way to pick up their scattered clothing, so it wouldn't get drenched in the downpour that was sure to break loose at any moment. Chris looked worriedly at the sky, as a vein of electricity passed from one massive thunderhead to another.

"Matt…maybe we should head for the car rather than the tent. This doesn't look very friendly." He pointed a finger heavenwards.

"It'll be okay, Jeff and I have camped through storms before, it's not a big deal at all." Matt ducked into the tent. The rain began to pitter-patter harder, and thunder growled through the pines. Chris scrambled to his feet, and bee-lined for the tent, and practically dived in through the still unzipped opening.

"Ow, damn pine needles!" He cursed as he settled into the tent, and upturned one of his feet to inspect the naked sole. Matt just laughed, and zipped them up tight and snug in the canvas housing.

Chris burrowed into his sleeping bag and watched the sides of the tent heave with the wind that was picking up. It was strange looking, as though they were inside a kind of breathing lung. Somehow, that thought was very, very creepy. The rain sounded even harder against the cloth of the tent, as though pebbles were pelting from the sky rather than water, and Chris yelped when an ear-splitting crash seemed to invade their tent.

"Matt, please can we go somewhere else?" He felt a little silly, whimpering over a storm like a little child, but damn it they were outside! There were trees everywhere, trees that could be split by the lightening or broken by a gale of wind, and toppled onto them—or one of those fingers of lightening could easily zap through their tent. It was the perfect target sat there in the small open clearing. "Please Matt, this isn't fun anymore!"

"Baby…come here." Matt reached for Chris and pulled him closer, sleeping bag and all. "It's the middle of the night, it's pitch dark, there's no way we could make it through the woods and back to the truck right now. Just calm down, it'll probably pass quick, and then we can go back to sleep." Matt stroked Chris's cheek, and planted a kiss to his nose.

"This was a stupid idea." Chris mumbled.

Matt said nothing else, just rolled to his back and watched the storm pound at their shelter. Hours passed by, and still the storm had only let up a little. Even then, Matt wasn't really sure if it had let up, or if he just imagined that it had. Another crack of lightening sounded nearby, followed by the unmistakable splintering associated with wood splitting. Chris crawled towards the door of the tent, and unzipped it. He poked his head out, and all Matt could see of his lover were the two round humps of his ass, one sporting a pattern of bruises from a rough grope.

"That's it!" Chris said, pulling his head back inside. His hair and face was dripping with rain, and he shook it like a dog would. "That tree fell just a few feet from our tent! Matt, I wanna go home!" He found the corner of the tent where Matt had tossed their clothes into a mingled heap and started to paw through the garments to find his own and put them on.

"Chris--"

"Yeah, yeah…I know it's dark but we have flashlights."

"But Chris it's--"

"I want to go home!"

Matt sighed, and pulled himself from the warmth of his sleeping bag.

"Fine Chris, fine we'll go home." He muttered, plucking his t-shirt from the pile and slipping it over his head. "I saw an inn on the way here, a few miles down the road. We can stay there tonight, and then come back tomorrow and get the tent and sleeping bags."

Just knowing they were going somewhere with four walls and a bed made Chris feel so much better. Next time Matt wanted to spend a romantic evening star-gazing, they could do it from Matt's hot tub on the back deck—that was as outdoorsy as Chris planned to be in the future.

The two of them hurried through the thick pines with the beams of their flashlights wavering weakly in front of them. They were almost immediately soaked from the sheets of rain blowing around them, and Matt wondered why he had to give in to Chris so much. _Because you love him._ He told himself, and he knew it to be true. He'd go to the ends of the earth, so dodging bolts of electricity as Zeus tried to impale them was the least he could do for love. _Or insanity._ He added mentally, as he hopped over a fallen tree. His boots slipped against the dead pine needle flooring, and he almost landed on his ass. He managed to steady himself at the last minute, and stood still panting for breath as the rain continued. After a moment, he turned, and shone his flashlight around.

"Chris?" He drew the back of his hand over his face, pushing away some of the chocolaty curls that stuck to his forehead and jaw. "Chris!"

"Matt?" He heard his name under the noise of the storm, the one syllable dragged out into a groan.

"Shit." He muttered, and headed towards the sound. After backtracking a little, the glowing beam of his flashlight found Chris curled up, one hand on his ankle, as his head rested against his knee. His eyes were screwed closed, his face contorted into a grimace. "Oh no, Chris…"

Matt held the flashlight between his head and shoulder as rolled up Chris's pant leg, hissing as he saw what was there.

"Fuck!" He hissed out again. The top of Chris's sock was drenched with blood, and just above the cotton top was what really made Matt wince. A glistening, jagged, shard of bone stabbed through Chris's skin. The ivory blade glistened with smears of blood, and the abused flesh around it was swelling quickly. This was exactly why Matt hadn't wanted to go sprinting through the woods in the dark of night, there were too many risks for getting lost, or injured. "Come on baby, I'll help." He said, struggling to get Chris up without bumping or jarring his broken ankle.

The rest of the way was painfully slow-going. The only thing Matt and Chris had to be grateful for was that by then they really weren't that far away from the car, but with having to help Chris limp along, it seemed more than twice as long as it really was. Matt tried his best to get Chris into the truck without further hurting him. He rounded the vehicle and hopped into the driver side, eyeing Chris as he started the engine. The blond seemed pale, the usual sun-kissed color drained away from his face.

"Fuck…fuck!" Chris choked out, screwing his eyes closed at the pain that shot up and down his leg.

"It's okay Chrissy, I'll get you to the hospital." Matt soothed, pulling the truck onto the narrow, dark road. He switched the beams on, and watched the rain slant through the projected light. What a way to end their romantic camping trip, Matt thought to himself as he drove down the winding road. He had no idea where the nearest hospital was, but he knew that hotel wasn't far away. He was just going to duck in there, and hope to find an answer. He shook his head and watched carefully through the water that the wipers splashed over the windshield, and slowed down a little. He was well known for his crazy driving, but the last thing he needed to do now was get reckless, and go careening into a ditch.

Chris rested his head against the cool glass of the window, and watched the rain stream down the pane. The dark, shadowy, scenery passed by outside for what seemed like ages. The pain in his ankle was really starting to get to him, so much so that he was starting to tremble. Sure, he'd taken a lot of hard bumps and falls over the years, even broken his arm and wrestled with it, but this felt worse than anything he could ever remember. Maybe the fact that he'd looked down at it, and seen his own bone protruding through his flesh, didn't help. Maybe that sick vision that kept surfacing in his mind again and again was working to psychologically intensify the pain, or something. He closed his eyes again, wondering how long the nasty break would sit him out of his job. No doubt there would have to be pins and bolts or whatever it was they did to hold such heinous things together.

"Are we almost there?" Chris sighed against the window. His puff of breath made a steamy circle on the glass.

"Uh…not yet babe. Soon." Matt said, cursing himself as he tried to figure out where he was. It shouldn't have been that hard, he hadn't turned off the road or taken another way by mistake, had he? It was just this fucking rain and darkness, it was disorienting as hell. He glanced at the digital numbers on the radio and realized just how long he'd been driving them. This isn't right, this isn't right at all. "Damn it!" He hissed, pounding the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

"What's wrong? Matt where--"

Chris stopped, when Matt swerved the car off to the side of the road. His broken ankle bounced up against the door and he yelped at the pain that throbbed up his leg and seized the entire appendage with agony.

"There's some people stopped at the side of the road here, I'm going to see if they know where the nearest hospital is." Matt said, killing the engine.

"Oh God, Matt…no. I don't think that's a good idea." Chris sniffled, and peered through the dripping windshield. Matt had left the lights on, and the dim beams picked up a small, battered looking car at the side of the road. The hood was up, and a figure was bent over obviously inspecting it, while another smaller figure—a woman maybe—was leaning against the side of the car looking out into the night. She turned to look at them, and Chris shivered. There was something strange about her, and her stare made him suddenly cold. "Matt, don't…just…"

Matt ignored Chris's anxious words, and slammed the door closed behind him as he left the truck. Chris must have thought he was stupid, but Matt knew he needed to be careful. He slipped his hand into the pocket of his jeans, feeling the camo case of the folding buck knife he kept there. Chris watched as Matt sauntered over, and rounded the front of the car. The figure that was bent over straightened up, and he and Matt shook hands. Chris's cobalt gaze moved from the two men, back to that woman. Her eyes had never left Chris, and they made his skin creep and crawl beneath his wet t-shirt.

To his total shock, Matt came back towards the trunk with the man and woman close behind him. What…what in the hell was Matt doing? He opened the door and climbed back into the truck.

"Matt!" Chris nearly shrieked. "What in the--" Chris's question was answered when the two back doors to the cab were opened, and the couple slid into small space.

"They're headed to the hospital too, and their car took a shit." Matt explained. "Listen Chrissy, it'll be okay. They said it's not too far away and now all of us can get there and get taken care of." Matt gave Chris's shoulder a little squeeze that was meant to be reassuring.

"Matthew…" Chris leaned in close, whispering. "Don't you ever watch horror movies? Rule #1: Don't pick up the weirdo's on the side of the road!"

"Chris, we'll be there soon. Just sit back, and relax." Matt reassured, starting the engine to life again.

If possible, Chris's face seemed paler in the low light. As Matt steered the truck back onto the road, Chris glanced in the mirror at their passengers. The man had long, lanky hair that hung greasily over his shoulders and stuck to the hollows of his gaunt cheeks. His face was schooled into a serious expression, but Chris had the feeling if he smiled, it would be rotted and sour. The woman was worse. She was small, her bony arms wrapped around her torso, as she rocked back and forth in the seat. Her hair was a tangle, and fell over half her face. She kept reaching up to swipe it back, but it just kept falling over that one side again, like a lopsided curtain. Her lips were thin and cracked, and her eyes were rimmed dark, and in their glimmering depths was something frightening that Chris couldn't place. It made him feel sick in the deepest parts of his soul, and suddenly in his stomach too. He swallowed hard to keep from losing it.

"Just a hit, just one. Just one I need just one, just one, one one one!" The woman muttered again and again. Chris glanced back up into the mirror, and saw the man place a hand on her knee, as if to calm her, although the numb expression on his haunted face never changed. The man sniffed, once, twice, the third time deeply, as though he smelled something in the truck that Chris didn't.

"Not yet." The man said simply, his voice gravely. "We have to see Him first."

"Just one, just one hit—one one one!" She sang eerily, rocking quicker, her hands trembling in front of her eerie, sick face.

Chris reminded himself that after this was over, he was going to wring Matt's neck. He pulled his eyes away from the mirror, hoping that they'd be at the hospital soon and away from those creeps. Matt seemed unaffected, as he sat concentrated at the steering wheel just peering into the rainy night. The storm had finally started to let up, and Chris had the shivery feeling that he should have listened to Matt originally and stayed in the tent—that they would have been safer there than here. He tried to shake the feeling away, telling himself that he was just over-reacting due to the fact that it was the middle of the night, these people looked less than friendly or fun, and lastly but certainly not least, that bone sticking through his skin. The pain it caused was definitely not helping to further happy feelings. He looked down at it again. The cuff of his bloodied jeans were still rolled up the way Matt had done it to look at the wound, and under the shadow of the dashboard he could see that blink of bone, like the glimmer of a wet eyeball. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling nauseous.

He opened them only a moment later, when he felt that he was being watched. He looked back up to the small mirror and the two faces in it. One was still expressionless as ever, the other, was staring directly at him, her head cocked at an odd angle, the point of her tongue slowly running over those horribly chapped lips.

"I need, I need, been so long mmm…" She mumbled and muttered incoherently, and picked at her hands, scraping away thin layers of dead looking skin, and musing at them.

"Matt, please hurry." Chris gulped, and peeked over at the speedometer. As usual, Matt had his foot to the floor, but somehow it still felt as though they were moving too slow. Chris just screwed his eyes tight again, and hoped it would be over soon. Things slowly darkened to a fuzzy, shadowy, gray, and then to black.

*******

"Damn, I think he passed out…" Matt cursed, looking over at Chris.

"What's wrong with him, is he bleeding?"

Matt startled, caught off guard by the deep voice. The man hadn't spoken since the couple had gotten into the truck, and he'd almost forgotten that they were there. He was too focused on getting Chris help to think much about it.

"Y-yeah, he is. He broke his ankle, the bone's up through the skin."

The lanky man gave a deep sniff—and let the breath back out as though inhaling the aroma of something pleasant simmering away on the stove. Maybe he just had a cold, Matt told himself. Anyway, he didn't have time to consider those two, just to get them all to the hospital. He didn't think Chris was in danger of losing too much blood, but he didn't know if the pain could make him go into shock or not. He really didn't want to find out, either.

"Oh, don't worry." The man said, his voice having a hint of amusement to it, the first sign of any emotion at all. "He won't go into shock, not yet anyway." His thin fingers reached around Chris's headrest, where his blond head was slumped back against it. The rough tips and the broken nails ghosted over Chris's cheek.

"Hey!" Matt snapped. "Don't touch him!" His grip tightened on the wheel, and the beat of his heart suddenly skipped.

"No need to be jumpy, I've only answered your question." The man smiled, Matt could see it out of the corner of his eye, and the row of teeth sneering from beneath his curled lip was the color of socks that had danced across a dirty floor.

"Please?" The woman pawed at his arm. "One, one hit! One one one, been so long, mmm need just one!"

It was then that it slowly occurred to Matt, that he hadn't said anything _out loud_ about blood loss or shock. He'd simply _thought_ it. His stomach seemed to bounced up into his throat at that realization, and he quickly swallowed down the sick feeling. Something Chris had said to him only moments ago echoed in his head, and he damned himself for not listening_. Don't you ever watch horror movies? Rule #1: Don't pick up the weirdo's on the side of the road!_

"A-are you sure this is the right way to get to the hospital?" Matt asked, his voice a little choked, as anxiety slowly morphed into the beginnings of fear.

"Oh yes, this is exactly the right way."

Matt kept driving, feeling worse and worse as nothing passed them by but huddles of trees and empty land. The storm had dissipated to nothing more than a drizzle. Up in the sky, a cloud hung over the near-full moon again. He kept pushing the truck onwards, praying for any form of civilization to appear. That woman kept mumbling in the back seat, kept rambling, and when Matt momentarily snatched his eyes away from the lonely stretch of road, to the mirror, he could see her rocking. He could see her obsessively repeating that motion again and again, he could see her trembly fingers plucking out strands of unwashed hair, could see the nails scraping at the hollows of her cheeks. They hadn't seemed that bad when he'd picked them up, they hadn't seemed that bad out there in the darkness. He was only being a nice guy, they were stranded, they needed to be at the hospital too, he was only being a nice guy! _Don't panic Matt, stay calm._

"So, are you two from around here?" He asked, and the moment the words had fallen from his mouth in his own drawl—exaggerated because of his anxieties—it occurred to him that they both had accents that weren't southern. The way their words sounded were not strangely exotic, but just sounded more northern, more like Chris or even like Mike Mizanin who was from the Midwest.

"We're from all places." The man said cryptically, his voice low, and menacing whether he meant it to be or not. Matt tried to tell himself he imagined that tone, but he knew otherwise. He was starting to chew at his lip, catching his pointed eye-teeth on the sensitive skin, and tearing it. Sweat was popping out at his fuzzy hairline. He was getting scared, just simply scared.

"Wha…what are your names, if you don't mind me asking."

Matt's reply to that was silence. Even the meaningless lines the woman kept jabbering out ceased. There was no noise, but the sound of the tires rolling against the road, and the intermittent squawk of the wiper blades. It was horrible, and that sick feeling was creeping over him again. He wanted to swerve to the side of the road, and toss the odd couple out of the cab, and peel off in a gust of tossed rock, and leave them far behind. He glanced over again, and the man had his fingers back on Chris, twined in his hair.

"Don't worry." The man said lowly. "He's not my type." He snaked his fingers out of the blond locks, and looked over to the woman.

"Yes yes, yes yes." She parroted, rocking and picking, plucking and shaking. "Hit hit hit."

"Oh—thank God!" Matt groaned out, when he noted lights in the distance.

There was something ahead, and he didn't care what it was as long as he could get away from these people, and get help for Chris. He put his foot to floor and pushed the truck to speed towards the beacon. Finally, it was close enough to tell what it was: a small town. It was the best thing he'd seen all night, and finally some relief washed over him. At the outskirts were a few small, unimpressive houses, the darkened windows seeming to blink at him from the darkness. They soon gave away to some old brick buildings with big dull windows and signs propped haphazardly in them: Coin Laundry, Deal-A-Dollar, The Watering Hole Bar, Plumbing Rooters, Hardware, etc. It was all the makings of small town nothingness, but still it was something. Up ahead, were the lights of what looked to be a small gas station. As Matt got closer, he saw that he was right, and pulled in. There were two pumps, one self-serve, and the other was "full service" meaning an attendant would come out, and fill 'er up for you. Matt swung up to the self-serve and shut the truck down.

"I think we're lost." He said, turning around to face the man with the too-touchy hands. "Why don't the two of you get out and get directions?" He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could.

"Good idea." The man said. "But I don't see why she needs to go too." He gave Matt an odd smile with those dingy-sock teeth, and got out of the cab.

Matt let out a sigh of relief, as his feet hit concrete. He glanced over his shoulder, thinking the man had already disappeared into the small service station. Now he planned to haul the woman out, and leave them both. It shouldn't have been hard since she was so small and frail looking, to get her out of the cab and book it. Doing this went against anything Matt believed about hospitality and kindness, but now seemed like the time to overlook such things. He tugged the back door open, only to jump nearly out of his shoes as a bony hand curled around his wrist.

"What are you doing?"

It was the man, and his dark eyes danced, as his nose pressed close to Matt's. Matt tugged his arm, and was shocked to find the man's grip so deceptively strong. He tried again, failing to break it, only serving to get the finger hold clenched tighter to the point of pain. Panic threatened to surge through him, and he tried desperately to stamp down on it.

"I think you should come in with me." The man hissed, and pulled Matt towards the service station.

"Oooh…alone alone alone—need need need just one one one hit." The woman smiled her ghostly, broken smile. Her wild eyes burned like the flame of a secret fire, one that only demons dared to dance around. She crawled into the front of the cab, and moved into Chris's lap, breathing against his lips, inspecting his face, prying open one of his eyes with her cold fingers. "Ooh yes, oh yes yes." One of her hands moved to the smooth column of his neck, and traced over the pulse beneath. "Yes, yes oh yes." She leaned closer.

Inside the service station, Matt was pulled to the counter. Behind it, a beer-bellied man sat snoring with his oil-spotted cap pulled over his eyes, and his scuffed work boots propped up near the cigarette cartons. There was a small, silver bell on the counter, meant for ringing to get attention. The man who had Matt in his grip crashed one of his palms onto the bell, sounding out a simple "ding". The guy behind the counter snorted, and sat up. His hat tumbled to the floor and revealed a birds nest of thinning hair. He rubbed at his bulbous nose, and his eyes went straight to Matt. Both men were looking at him, looking him over, as though he were some piece of meat. The fat one leaned over the counter and nodded.

"Good." He said. "What can I do fer ya?"

The question was answered by a laugh from the man who had been passenger in Matt's truck.

"What are you doing there?" He pointed to Matt's other hand, which had just slipped into his pocket. Matt gasped, as his fingers curled around nothing but lint. "Looking for this?" The lanky one reached into the pocket of his trench, and pulled out Matt's buck knife. He flicked open the blade, and smirked as it glimmered under low lights.

"How—but!" Matt stammered.

"You dropped it when got out of the truck earlier, to help us on the side of the road." The man closed the blade, and handed it to the beer-bellied fellow. "You weren't thinking of doing anything savage with that, were you?" The lilt to his voice was teasing, his dirty smile wide.

"I…uh…of course not." Matt managed to choke out. Not only did his wrist seem strangled in that hold, but his voice seemed clenched too.

"Y'sound as if y'can use a drink, son." The man behind the counter scratched at his stubbled jaw, and sniffed. "Go get you a drink, no charge." He motioned towards the back, where a couple of large glass coolers sat. The grip on Matt's hand gave, and he found himself rubbing feeling back into the abused flesh.

"Don't try to run, by the way." The lanky man warned, grabbing a fistful of Matt's shirt. He dragged Matt over to the glass doors they'd entered through. "Do you see that?" He motioned towards the truck. Matt squinted into the dimness, and he could see that woman piled up in the lap of his lover. His eyes grew wide. "That's right, my woman awaits only a signal from me, should you try anything stupidly heroic, and she'll do away with that pretty lover of yours." He let go of Matt's shirt, watching with morbid pleasure as tears sprang to Matt's earth-tone eyes.

"I…I understand." Matt said lowly, and headed towards the back cooler as the man behind the desk had instructed.

He looked into the glass at the rows of beverages lined on the shelves, thinking of some way to get both he and Chris out of this bizarre situation. He reached into his other pocket, and again found nothing. There was a mingling of laughter from the counter, and Matt turned to look back at the two men. The lanky one held up Matt's cell phone, which he'd somehow gotten too and confiscated. He sat it on the counter, and turned back to his low speaking with the fat man. Matt turned back to the coolers. There had to be a way, there had to be some way to get out of this insanity. Panic was eating him, scattering his thoughts, making it hard for him to find a doorway to freedom, the road to get the hell out of this place. He opened one of the doors to cooler and reached into the icy space. His hand curled around a bottle of Yoohoo--a _glass_ bottle.

Feeling a little better, he moved towards the gaunt man bent over the counter. He tried to be stealthy, as quiet and quick as possible. He raised the bottle-turned-weapon over his head, and brought it down hard as the man turned to him. Glass and chocolate drink exploded everywhere. Some of the glass rain flew back onto Matt's face, the tiny shards cutting him, the droplets of drink spraying over his face and hair. The man turned slowly towards him, laughing. There was not a spot of blood seeping from the man's face or head, not one thin, twisted rivulet of crimson. He wore only a mask of wet chocolate over glittering eyes and a laughing mouth. Matt was the only one who had been bloodied, the ragged stump of the Yoohoo bottle was still clutched in his hand, the palm sliced from the explosive contact. Ruby and brown mingled and braided themselves into slick patterns that dripped down his wrist and arm.

"Your valor is admirable, but your kind never wins." He grabbed Matt's elbow, plucked the remains of the bottle from his hand, and tossed it clattering to the floor. The fat man rounded the desk, and joined up, watching from over the thin man's shoulder, with a look of lust dimpling his thick cheeks.

"Mmm, it has been long since I've tasted this." The thin one brought Matt's wrist to his lips, and licked away one of the blood-chocolate trails. "Perfect, so perfect. The blood of a man in love is always so much richer." A double shot of dark, chilling, laughter would be the last sound to ever reach Matt's ear. Both men lunged at him.

Out in the truck Chris's eyes fluttered open just in time to see those rapt, depthless eyes devouring his soul.

"Just a hit, I need a hit so bad. Mm, so long so long…so good."

Chris screamed, as she sank her teeth into his neck, and wrapped her lips around the wound, drinking greedily. For only a moment, she pulled away, licking the ring of ruby from her mouth. Blood spurted from twin holes in Chris's neck, and painted bright arcs over the windshield and inside of the cab.

"Yes yes yes! So good, so so good. The blood of a man in love, so much richer." She closed her mouth over the bite again, and took another hit. Up above the starry night watched, and that shroud of cloud hugged itself closer to the almost-full moon.


End file.
